You Looked Down on Me Once Now You Look Up (Patricia and Oliver) novel Chapter 452

Wendy listened for a bit before finally speaking up, her voice calm. “Is there a chance you’ll have to go home for the holiday weekend?”

Sara immediately shot back, “Uncle Oliver, making your employees work through their break is definitely illegal.”

“I already gave you time off,” Oliver replied, unfazed.

“It’s not you—it’s my parents who won’t let me rest. You’re off the hook.”

Patricia sat quietly on the couch, glancing between them, not daring to chime in.

Sara saw that she was losing the argument, so she clung to Patricia’s arm and started rocking it back and forth, putting on her sweetest, most pleading voice. “Aunt Patricia, help me out here, please?”

Oliver stood against the wall, arms crossed, those sharp eyes locked on Patricia. He watched her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Patricia felt herself blush under his gaze.

You had to hand it to Oliver—he always seemed to see things coming.

Last night, after they’d finished in bed, Oliver had wiped her down with a warm towel. The room was dim, shadows flickering on the walls as he leaned over and said, “Watch out for Sara this weekend. She’s got something up her sleeve. Don’t just go along with her.”

“She wants to go out and have fun?”

“Mhm.” Maybe it was just the afterglow talking, but his voice was low and rough. “She’s determined not to go home.”

“Sara’s not that rebellious. Maybe you’re just overthinking it.”

“Rebellious?” Oliver straightened, tossing the towel aside and pulling the covers up over her. “Wanna bet? She won’t just try to sneak out herself—she’ll pull you in, too.”

Patricia shook her head. “I don’t buy it.”

“All right then, let’s make a deal. If she does try to drag you along, you can’t pull any of that drama like tonight. No waterworks, no pouting to get me to give in.”

Patricia just glared at him, speechless.

Now, back on the couch, Patricia propped her head on her hand, looking resigned.

Sara hugged her arm, all wide eyes and pouty lips. “Aunt Patricia, come with me? Please?”

Patricia peeked through her fingers at Oliver and saw that annoyingly smug grin on his face. She felt her cheeks burn.

“Let me go.”

“Not a chance.”

“No wonder Sara doesn’t like you. I don’t—” Patricia cut herself off, eyes widening.

Oliver’s grip tightened just a little, his voice unreadable. “You don’t what?”

“Nothing. Just let me go,” Patricia muttered, trying to pry his arm away.

He didn’t budge.

The two of them just sat there, locked in a silent battle.

“Let go.”

“Oliver…”

Their little tug-of-war was interrupted by Johns calling from the dining room. “Sir, there’s a call from the front gate. A Detective King is here to see you.”